


wish you'd think about me instead

by kaptivated



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Resurrection, basically a world where the motive in chapter 3 works, so naturally chapter 3 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 08:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaptivated/pseuds/kaptivated
Summary: [V3 SPOILERS]A smile perks up her lips as Saihara steps forward to take her hand in his. The same foolish smile that told them, once upon a time, to all get along and escape someday.It's just not possible, right? This can only be another nightmare.





	wish you'd think about me instead

**Author's Note:**

> so basically, i was just curious about what would happen if the necronomicon in chapter 3 actually COULD bring someone back to life. add that to ouma's quote about how he'd want akamatsu to come back because it'd make saihara happy, and... this happened.
> 
> i know that there's a lot of technical questions about what would happen as a result that i kinda sidestepped in this fic, but just roll with it. i just wanted to write ouma being jealous lol
> 
> spoilers up to chapter 3. please enjoy!

She's a demon, he thinks. A cruel, heartless monster, come to take away all the joy from his life (what little there is).

He knows he has always had a bit of a paranoid streak, but this time he's not even exaggerating. Because Akamatsu Kaede is a traitor, a murderer, a corpse, and yet she is breathing as she rises up from the ashes of the necronomicon. Her chest rises and falls, covering the steady beat of her heart as her lilac eyes rest upon the students gathered around her. A smile perks up her lips as Saihara steps forward to take her hand in his. The same foolish smile that told them, once upon a time, to all get along and escape someday.

It's just not possible, right? This can only be another nightmare.

There's exclamations of joy, shouts of surprise, commotion as everyone gathers around to touch her body, to confirm that she's real. They cry, they smile, they laugh. It's a miracle, they proclaim. Saihara seems the happiest of them all, the happiest he's ever been since waking in this hellish school. (The sight of his smile makes something burn in his gut, twisting in pain.)

Ouma, keeping his distance, locks eyes with the girl. Her dead eyes bore into him, taunting him. Without a word, he slips away.

* * *

He catches them one night, sitting side by side. The purple flowers sway in the stale breeze, tickle at the couple's faces, hide their smiles from view. They do nothing to conceal their voices, however.

"... so that's what's happened, huh..."

Her voice is soft. Gentle. It's different from the way she used to rally everyone by her side, commanding and confident. A voice reserved for her precious sidekick, it seems.

"It must've been really hard. I'm sorry that I... I mean..."

"It's not your fault."

Subconsciously, his breath catches in his throat. His beloved's voice, usually so scathing when directed at him, is different as well. At once, he compares it to the voice he'd imagined in his dreams, the occasional fantasies he let himself indulge in whenever the fear of losing anything else to this twisted game threatened to overwhelm him. The voice he pretended would comfort him, would call him by name and laugh for his sake. He decides that the real one is much better.

"Yeah, it was hard... But..."

Behind the curtain of flowers, their figures inch closer.

"I'm glad you're here now."

There's no point in this. Ouma knows when to make a graceful exit. (Or a desperate escape.) When he finally slips into bed, the door locked behind him and the blinds shut tight, he sinks deep into the sheets. He wraps them tightly around himself, as if somehow he could disappear beneath them, like one of Yumeno's dumb magic tricks. His breath bounces in the fabric, blows back in his face, covers him in an uncomfortable warmth. A minute later, he realizes he's been on the verge of hyperventilating.

Why? What's wrong with him? He doesn't understand. He needs to calm down. If he were to cry now, he'd never forgive himself. There's no way he's this weak of a person, right? To be so upset over something so useless...

After all, this is what he wished for. Like this, Saihara will be happy. Happier than Ouma could ever make him.

He lets out a sigh.

"I wish you'd think about me instead..."

He buries himself further, as if he could smother out his selfish feelings. As if he could smother out his entire existence.

* * *

A few days later, they find Akamatsu dead once more, impaled through the neck by the sharp edge of a sickle.

It's the second time that Saihara's pretty face is marred by such ugly tears. The sight makes Ouma feel sick. And yet, he can't help but feel giddy inside. The dead should stay dead, he wants to say aloud with a cheshire grin on his face, laughing at everyone's grief. He doesn't.

Later, upon realizing that he rejoiced in the death of a human being, he smothers himself in self-hatred once more. Love is truly a terrifying thing, he thinks. Only love could fill him with so much hate.


End file.
